She Told Herself
by Puppy
Summary: one shot challenge: On Ron's stag night, the twins lose Harry in Knockturn Alley. It's up to Ginny to get him back, get him sober, find the rings and get him to the church on time. Summary: Ginny is the only one who can find Harry, and still must after fi


I've been wanting to put this up for a while. I hope you enjoy!

SUBJECT: mumbles oldchallengeIaccidentlyleftonmybrother'scomputerinanotherstate.  
Author: T.D. Lockhart  
Title: She Told Herself  
Challenge: 22. On Ron's stag night, the twins lose Harry in Knockturn Alley. It's up to Ginny to get him back, get him sober, find the rings and get him to the church on time. claimed as fic by infoquidditchpup  
Summary: Ginny is the only one who can find Harry, and still must after finding out he left Ron's stag party with someone.  
Rating: implied PG-13 moments  
Genre: Romance/Angst  
Word Count (optional): 2400ish  
Notes/Warnings: suggestion

"You can't just go around Knockturn Alley asking if anyone has seen Harry Bloody Potter!" Ginny screamed at her twin brothers. They both winced in pain; the kind of pain that predictably followed a long night of drinking. Harry's disappearance wasn't the chief cause of her anger but it was definitely wasn't helping her serenity.

The hangover potion in front of her burped and spit a dollop up at her. Ginny hissed as it stung her cheek and wiped it off quickly. She grabbed two glass bottles off the nearby shelf and slammed them down on the wooden table, making the twins jump then clutch their heads. In moments like this, she looked remarkably like their mother.

She ignored them as she muttered to herself and ladled portions of the thick gray liquid into little glass bottles. She had spent much of the previous night trying to calm Hermione, who had worked herself into such a state that she actually blew up a mirror. Weddings didn't always go as planned and Hermione was attempting the watch everyone from the tailors to the cake mixers. Ginny eventually convinced her to have a cup of tea, conveniently laced with a sleeping potion. Being an apprentice healer did have its rewards.

"It's not like we were any more sober than him," George said.

"Yeah, and besides we told him not to go off with that…." Fred stopped suddenly and looked at her in fear. Ginny had stopped with her ladle tipped over the second bottle. The potion oozed over the glass rim and ran down onto the wooden table. Steam started to rise from the spot.

Ginny came to when the table erupted in flames. She whipped out the wand from her back pocket. After the fire was extinguished, she cleaned the potion off the bottle, corked both of them, and vanished the rest.

"I don't care what Harry does on his own time," she said as she thrust the bottles into her pocket and stalked towards the stairs.

"Hey! What about us?" Fred asked, chasing after her. Ginny ignored them and started up to Ron's room.

"We're in pain here too."

She tried not to think about what Harry had gone off with. It could have been a friend for all she knew…a male friend. A very wrong image popped into her mind of Harry and Malfoy and she shook it away. At least it was a momentary distraction as for the past few weeks she tried not to think about how she didn't have a date for Ron's wedding this afternoon because she kept telling herself and everyone else she didn't need one, when in fact she was hoping Harry would ask her, and now it was too late.

And she tried not to think about the horrible, puffy, powder blue dress Hermione was making her wear. In fact, she was trying so hard not to think about these things, that she wasn't thinking about the steps in front of her either and her foot didn't quite catch. She fell forward with a shriek and the edges of the steps bit into her shins. Ginny winced and raised herself back to her feet. Harry "Bloody" Potter was misplaced and no one could know about it or the whole wizarding world would go into panic. That was, in fact, the reason her darling brothers had come to her. Any other family member would have flipped out and sounded the alarm (possible exceptions being Bill and Charlie but they had their hands full as it was). No, Harry deserved normality. He deserved to…she stopped on the stairs and tightly shut her eyes as she waited for the dull pain in her heart to pass…he deserved to go missing with some girl after a night of drinking and not have the whole country alerted to it. If she couldn't be with him, she could at least do that much for him.

She started up the stairs again and tried not to think about her sadness and tried to concentrate on the two problems at hand, getting Ron over his hangover and Harry.

Her face throbbed slightly from the potion splash and she concentrated on it to pull her out of her misery and enter Ron's room. She smirked as she conjured a large bucket of ice water above him. The bucket slowly tipped and instantly Ron shot up.

"Son of a…Bloody…fuck," he sputtered. "Ginny!"

She couldn't help but smile as he glared at her before wincing and putting his hand down for support as his face turned green. She twirled one of the glass bottles in front of him.

"I'm only giving this to you because I don't want you upsetting Hermione." He instantly brightened up and snatched it from her, gulping it down quickly before grimacing at the taste. "When was the last time you saw Harry?" Ginny asked calmly. Ron's eyes went wide and he looked to the cot that should have held his best friend. It was empty.

"Fuck! Ginny, did he get back last night?"

"No," she answered as she took the bottle from him and corked it. "I'll find him though."

"How can you be so calm?" he demanded. "Harry's missing!…we were in Knockturn Alley, Christ!"

"Keep your voice down!" she hissed at him. Ron paled and looked around as if waiting for all of the Order to come piling into the room. "The twins told me he didn't leave alone." Ron's eyes went wide.

"He really left with someone?"

"I don't know, I wasn't there remember?"

"Not really," Ron grumbled. Ginny sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Get ready. I'll find Harry and make sure he's there on time."

So that was how Ginny found herself fully cloaked in black, hood up, Harry's dress robes stuffed in her bag, stalking down Knockturn Alley that bright Sunday morning…although even the sun couldn't cheer up that place. Fortunately, the early hour meant the place was abandoned and she was less likely to find trouble. Though, with the dark mood she was in, she was almost begging for a reason to hex someone.

She was pretty certain Harry hadn't gotten any further than the rooms above the tavern they were slumming in. Three Weasleys, 'the' boy who fucking lived, and several of their school friends shouldn't have gotten completely pissed in a place like this. The men she knew honestly lacked brains at times.

Ginny found the Dancing Goat and heaved the door open. The light cast a sharp contrast on the empty room and revealed no one. She stalked in and let the door bang shut behind her. The quietness unnerved her and she pulled her wand from her pocket and pulled it inside her sleeve.

Even a place as shady as this should have room records, she thought. Can't double book unless you want some nasty surprises. Sure enough, there was a book at the end of the bar that read "reservations" in tatty gold letters. Ginny reached out to touch it but it jumped away. Its pages opened like a mouth.

"The occupants of the Dancing Goat like their privacy, thank you very much," it said rather snotty tone, then zoomed under the counter.

"Fine," Ginny snapped back. She would just have to do this the hard way. She stalked towards the stairs.

"Lost some one, luv?" she heard a woman say in a saucy tone. She looked up the first landing. An aged tavern wench with wispy grey hair smirked down at her from inside a wooden frame. The trashy woman wore a loose white shirt and corset, which once upon a time probably held up her plentiful bounty but now crumpled under their sagging weight.

"My husband actually," Ginny lied. She decided that no painting in a place like this would wish anyone well, it was an advantage. "I heard he came up here with some whore. I'd like to give him a piece of my mind." She looked down for a moment in shock. Venom had been leeching from her words, so much so that she shocked herself.

"And what did this rascal look like?" The wench asked with intrigue.

"Dark messy hair," Ginny answered.

"I'll need a bit more than that, muffin. Most men's hair is messy by the time they get dragged up here." Ginny sighed. She couldn't really give away who he was, so adding green eyes and a lightning-bolt-scar was unacceptable. So, she though about what he wore that night. There was the green sweater her mother had made him, one that matched his eyes. Then there were the nice khaki pants. She remembered that especially because of all the years he had worn pants that were many sizes too big. He looked so much more handsome with a proper wardrobe, and it was even more touching that it included a sweater of her family. The warm fuzzy feeling froze in her insides as she remembered why she was here.

"Some time today dear," the painting demanded. Ginny scowled at it, sure that it already knew who she was talking about and was only taunting her.

"Fine, he was wearing a green sweater and glasses."

"Ah, yes. I do remember him. He went up with some redhead, second door on the left. Give him hell," the wench urged. Ginny nodded in agreement though she knew she wouldn't, couldn't. Harry was his own man, if he wanted to sleep with some…if he wanted to, well it was his life.

The fact that the woman was a redhead though, that bit at her as she topped the final stair. If that's what attracted him then why…However, Ginny refused to follow any line of reasoning that included her and a prostitute. She tried to tell herself it didn't matter if Harry didn't want her, though she couldn't quite bring herself to agree with herself.

She reached the second door and paused. Her worst fear, hearing them still in action, thankfully did not occur. Ginny pulled out her wand and muttered a quick spell and the door popped open. She reached out her hand only to realize it was trembling and prepared herself for the worst as the room slowly came into view. All of her preparations couldn't have saved her from the stabbing pain she felt when she saw a bare-chested Harry beneath a layer of white sheet. She stood for a moment and tried to tell herself it didn't matter but at the same time tried to tell herself that possibly it wasn't what it looked like. She didn't believe either idea. Finally, she thought of what her mother would do, how the matron Weasley looked at Harry like a son. He could be her brother. At least he was alone.

Ginny stepped into the room quietly, leaving the door open as a potential quick exit. She stood over Harry for a minute and watched him sleep. Even in a drunken slumber he had nightmares. His eyebrows were creased and his breathing was irregular as his head rolled on the pillow. All of Ginny's building hurt seemed to dissipate and she knelt beside the bed. She reached out and held the side of his face.

"Harry," she called. His movements calmed and she almost made out her name in his mumblings. "Wake up, Harry. You're late." Such average seeming words but suddenly as she said them tears broke free from her control. They were words etched into her memory. Such simple words but she had said them before, to him, after they had...She retook her hand and tried to wipe the evidence of her nostalgia away quickly. Her pained face was hidden under the hood, nevertheless, she couldn't hold in one sniffle. She covered her face with both hands and took a deep breath.

"Ginny?" she heard. She made one final attempt at looking composed and moved her hands away. When she looked up, Harry was propped on one of his elbows, putting his glasses on. He watched her with concern and confusion. "What's going on? Why are you crying? Did something happen?"

"No, Harry," she said calmly. "Nothing happened; I was just worried. Fred and George sent me to find you." At that, Harry suddenly seemed to remember his lack of clothes and looked down, then at her.

"Ginny…do you...I mean…I don't," Harry just stopped and an awkward pause invaded.

"I have a hangover potion for you, freshly brewed." She reached into her pocket and thrust it towards him. Harry looked at her searchingly before taking it.

"Ron didn't brew this did he?" he asked with a slight smile.

"I'm not that cruel," she said with a smirk. "I'll just wait outside."

The door to the bathroom suddenly creaked and they both looked towards it. Ginny's mouth dropped open. Dressed in a towel was a petite redhead. Despite the obviously bad dye job and blue eyes, the girl looked remarkably like her.

"Oh, God," she muttered, freezing for a moment. Turning off all thoughts she ducked her head and flew out the door.

"Ginny!" she heard Harry call behind her. She ran down the stairs, ignoring the cackling painting, and into the main room. In fact, she made it all the way to the door, but stopped. She didn't try to tell herself anything but just saw the girl in the towel and felt the pain of betrayal. But it was the worst kind, because she had no right to feel betrayed.

It wasn't long before she heard heavy footsteps rushing down the stairs so she stepped forward and opened the door.

"Ginny, wait!" he called, but she didn't stop. A few strides out the door her caught up to her. He grabbed her arm and spun her around towards him. She didn't look up and kept her face still hidden under the hood.

"We have to hurry, Harry," she said desperately as she stared at his chest. Hot tears were running from her eyes and it was impossible to keep her voice even. "We don't have much time and I told Ron I…I would make sure you were ready." She thrust her bag at him and tried to break away. He let the bag drop and jerked her in closer, grabbing her other arm as she pulled back.

"No…"

He had to say something to her, he needed to make this right…but he couldn't remember what had happened last night so he simply clutched her at a distance, in silence.

"Ginny…I…" Ginny's head snapped up and her eyes blazed at him.

"Harold J. Potter if you say you're sorry I'll slug you," She yelled. "Hermoine's wedding photos be damned!" She took a deep breath and spoke quietly. "You don't owe me anything." There, she had said it. "Nothing." Harry was silent for a moment but an intensity grew in his eyes.

"Don't I?" he yelled back, jerking her slightly. "Do we mean nothing to each other? We even..." Ginny's lip trembled as flashes of that night, the last night before they were supposed to die, assaulted her. She remembered his hot skin pressed to hers, the small difference between pain and pleasure, the way he cried out her name…most of all she remembered the way he clung to her tightly afterwards, even as he slept. That was what broke her heart. He needed her then, but was it just anonymous comfort? Did he still need her?

"Do you regret it, Ginny?" he asked her quietly. She looked up into his deep emerald eyes, the image blurred from her tears. "Because if you do; I owe you an apology." He looked so real to her in that moment, not a hero, or a brother's best friend. He was her Harry, her stubborn, selfish, hot tempered, heroic, sweet, wonderful Harry.

"No, Harry. I never regretted it." She gasped as Harry's grip released only for his arms to close around her and pull her in tightly. He held her just as he had that night, so close to his heart she could hear it beat in his chest. Slowly she sunk into the embrace and inhaled his scent deeply. It made her feel weightless.

"Break my heart again, Potter, and I'll hex you," she muttered into his sweater.

"Fair enough," he answered, and kissed the top of her head.

"And then I'll sick my brothers on you."

"It's a deal."


End file.
